Don’t Stay Away From Home For Too Long
by Synbou
Summary: Don's work for a special international task force brings him in contact with a potentially deadly virus.
1. Chapter 1: Conclusions and New Data

Series: Numb3rs  
Season: 2  
Part: 1/7  
Rating: K+

Disclaimer: Numb3rs and its lovely characters don't belong to me. They do to CBS. Unknown OC are mine, however. We all know the drill…

**A/N: Hi, First, I'd like to mentioned that English is not my primary language, French is. Please be nice about my English and join me in THANKING EFF for helping me with the plot, grammar, and finding some of those words I keep forgetting to write in.**

**Second, SPOILER WARNING: this story takes place right after the episode "DARK MATTER".**

**Summary: **Charlie has come to a point where he believes he has gathered enough data to make correct decisions when dealing with his older brother. But when a case starts to take over Don's life, things might never be the same again.

**Don't Stay Away From Home For Too Long**

**Chapter 1: Conclusions and New Data.**

**1111111111 **

Charlie observed his older brother with a critical eye. They were sitting across from each other at a table at D'Amico's. The pizza they had shared was long gone and so was the friendly chatter they had exchanged over dinner. Don was now wearing that far away look that often clouded his eyes when he was troubled by one thing or another.

When Charlie had come home earlier that evening, he had found Don sitting alone in the living room. His brother had been reading a newspaper article about the last case they had solved.

"You can't get enough?" Charlie had asked, a bit cynically.

"What do you want from me? I liked to see the way they spin it," the FBI agent had replied, referring to the media.

To Charlie's question about their father's whereabouts, Don had informed him that their Dad was on another date with the Caterer. Apparently, Don had been waiting for his brother to come home so he could have dinner in his company.

Despite the fact that he would have preferred to stay in and enjoy a quiet evening in his own house, Charlie had accepted Don's invitation for a pizza. Not only was his brother paying for once, it had to be better than the one-week-old pot roast that was still sitting in his kitchen's refrigerator.

Once in Don's SUV, Charlie had told his brother that a pizza was a good idea, but he had also insisted that they go to a decent restaurant. All Charlie had wanted at that point had been to relax in a quiet place where the food was good.

"Let's go to D'Amico's," he had suggested.

Don had given him a quick sideways look. "D'Amico's?"

"You mind?"

"No, not at all, Buddy," Don had assured him.

D'Amico's was nice Italian restaurant with a lot more style than the local pizza joint where his brother tended to hang out. However, Charlie knew that as long as Don could have a beer with his pizza – which he had – the place would be fine by him.

Charlie had taken a glass of Chianti along with his meal and was now sipping some coffee. He watched Don in silence. Charlie was disappointed to notice that his brother's cheerful demeanour had dissipated. Could Don have been bothered by Charlie's earlier comments about wanting to do him some real damage back in high school? It was just the sort of thing that Don would acknowledge, even joke about, but also dwell upon silently.

Soon, Charlie found himself facing a dilemma. Should he pry into his brother's thoughts or should he redirect the conversation elsewhere altogether? Either way, he had to do something. Seeing Don look so sad, he decided, was just not sitting well with him.

What could make Don sad? Could it be his prior comments about high school? Could it be the case they had just closed? The later was also a valid possibility.

The case had been a troubling one about high school kids killing other kids over rage and revenge. Charlie had visited the school where the shooting had taken place. He had walked its halls in order to verify his data. He had done so after the body's of the eight victims had been removed – seven kids and a teacher.

Don, on the other hand, had walked those same halls while the bodies were still there – laying on the floor. Charlie could only imagine how difficult it must have been, even for his brother. That said, Don might appear tough and emotionally detached when working on a case, he still had feelings. Having him open up and talk about those feelings, however, was another matter entirely.

"_It would be easier for me to launch myself into space, then to have Don talk about his feelings,_" he had once told his friends Larry and Amita.

What if it wasn't about feelings? What if it was about another one of those gruesome cases that were readily falling on his brother's desk?

Charlie figured that he would never know unless he asked. Why not? After all, the worst thing that could happen would be that Don dismissed the issue; that they would get up and leave. Thus, he made up his mind. Hypothesizing that his brother may react negatively to a direct line of questioning, Charlie opted for a general invitation.

"A penny for your thoughts," he said, trying to sound casual.

"Huh?" came the distracted response. "Sorry, Charlie. What did you say?"

"I said 'a penny for your thoughts'. You seemed lost in one of Larry's far away galaxies," Charlie said with a small grin.

Don returned his smile. It was partially hidden behind the hand that he had brought to his month in a pensive gesture.

"I wasn't thinking as far as another galaxy. I don't think I could ever do _that_," he said, moving his hand to his coffee cup. Don sighed. "No. I was just thinking as far as Washington." He took of sip of coffee. He was clearly weighting his next words. "Charlie, I'm afraid I've got some bad news. I'm being temporarily reassigned out of L.A.," he finally cut to the chase.

"You're being transferred to D.C?" Don nodded. "For how long?"

"Could be three weeks. Could be six months. Could be a year."

"_A year_?" Charlie echoed.

"Don't panic, Buddy. As I said, it could be shorter than that," Don pointed out.

"Does Dad know?"

"No, not yet. I didn't want to ruin his date by dropping that bomb shell on him. He isn't going to take this well, Charlie. He's still not over the fact that I worked away from L.A. for so many years."

"True. He still holds a grudge about the fact that you didn't stay in touch. He missed you a lot, back then. And, he was worried about you," Charlie added.

Don simply nodded.

They fell silent as a waitress came over their table and refilled their cups.

"You said it could be as short as three weeks," Charlie continued once they were alone again. "There's quite a range between three weeks and one year. What's that all about?"

"I just don't know how long it's gonna take. As you say: 'too many unpredictable variables'."

Charlie sighed despite himself. "Does this have anything to do with you work with the Office of International Operations? I noticed that it's been taking a lot of your time lately. You're hardly ever in the field anymore."

"Yeah. It does. I'll be joining the team over there for awhile."

"You never took the time to tell me how you ended up working on an international task force against the Sex Trade."

"And you want to know, _now_?" Don asked. He sighed with mock resignation.

Charlie waited for his brother to Continue.

"It all started for me with what seemed to be a simple case way back when I was working Fugitive Recovery. Coop and I were asked to find an escape serial killer. This guy had a thing for murdering porn stars after viewing their movies. The way this S.O.B. was tracking down his victims made our techniques looks like amateur stuff at times. I actually learned a few things from this guy. Anyway, we eventually caught him. But, by that time, the case had turned into something much bigger as we got entangled into an international network of people kidnapping Asian women and selling them as sex slaves here in the U.S. and Canada. I worked for over a year on these cases alone before I decided to call it quit. It was either that or loose my sanity.

"Or your life?"

Don nodded. "It came pretty close that," he admitted.

A shiver ran up Charlie's spine. "I suppose that's part of the reason Dad hated it so much when your were working Fugitive Recovery. The other part being the fact that you weren't keeping in touch."

"Sounds about right," Don agreed. "Keeping in touch was tough. It wasn't fun for me either. So, when the opportunity for Albuquerque came up, I jumped on it. Best career moved I've ever made." He probably noticed Charlie's sudden sadness for he added quickly: "Best personal move I've made was to come home."

Charlie returned his grin with a small smile. "But you never stopped working with that Task Force, did you?"

"I kept a consulting position as Subject Matter Expert while I was in Albuquerque, but my involvement was minimal. Running my own office was keeping me busy enough. I became active again on the Task Force last year . Eventually, I assigned Terry to it. She became my direct liaison in Washington. Her temporary assignment became a permanent one after a couple of months. After she left, I requested two new agents instead of one so that the team could keep up with the workload while I was working on other cases."

Charlie watched his brother bring his hand to his mouth as he considered his next words. The hand moved to his forehead, which he rubbed, then came back to his lips.

"Anyways, we're finally ready to make a significant move. We figured that it would be easier for everyone involved if I was to get closer to the current hot zone."

"And that's in Washington?"

"Not exactly. Washington, New York, Montreal, Toronto and Western Europe. The cases also have strong ties to L.A. and other major cities on the West Cost, but my presence here isn't crucial at this time."

"You can manage your cases remotely," Charlie remarked.

"Exactly," Don said. "To tell you the truth, Charlie, I'm looking forward to that change. I passed the last few months constantly keeping track of where people were in five different countries with multiple time zones. When I wasn't on a conference call with Washington, I was on one with Montreal or London. Man, I have been attached to the phone like a dog on a leash. I'm so sick of it! There's times I could throw the cell phone at the wall."

"But you have to content yourself with simply turning it off," Charlie remarked with a small grin.

"Yeah, when I can."

"Well, if you've been keeping track of people in five different countries with multiple time zones that may explain why you've been checking your watch every five minutes," Charlie said.

"I don't check the time every five minutes," Don defended.

"Five is a bit much, I agree. Fifteen is closer to the average. Sometimes, Dad and I wonder if you do it in your sleep." Don stared back at him. "You do, don't you?"

"What?" Don asked innocently.

"Wake up in the middle of the night just to check the time."

"It might have happened. Tell you what, if I do it again, I'll record my observations and you can do a nice little statistical analysis to pass the time."

"It could make an interesting case study," the mathematician replied with a smile.

Don shook his head. "Nah. Forget I mentioned that, Buddy. I've got enough to do already."

"So, when are you leaving for Washington?" he asked, dreading the answer more than he cared to admit.

"Next Tuesday," Don replied. "I've got a few more things to set up concerning my current cases and the way I'll keep working with my team here in L.A. Megan, David, and Colby are still gonna be reporting to me, for now. And… And, I have to tell Dad…"

"Yeah… Now that's going to be tough," Charlie agreed.

"I'm gonna invite him for lunch tomorrow and I'll tell him, then," Don said.

"Better do it sooner rather than later," Charlie encouraged him.

They fell silent for a few minutes.

"You okay, Buddy", Don asked, concerned clouding his eyes.

"I'm going to miss working with you," Charlie confessed, meeting his brother's gaze. "Don't suppose you'll need some math consultations wherever you're going to be?"

"I might," his brother replied. "Besides, you already worked on a few of those cases."

"I guess that I did." Charlie said remembering some data. "You just didn't give you the full background."

"I thought it was better this way. You don't handle this kind of stuff too well. Nor should you," Don pointed out.

Charlie simply nodded, unsure of how to respond to that.

"Don't worry, Chuck," Don said on a lighter tone. "We're still gonna be working together. If we don't work on the Task Force's cases, we'll do on others. I'll still be around," Don assured him. "I'll be coming home a few times per month."

"You better be!" Charlie warned him. "And, don't call me _Chuck_."

1111111111

**TBC…**

**A/N: I Hope that you enjoyed Chapter 1. More parts are in the works.**


	2. Chapter 2: Coming and Going

Series: Numb3rs  
Season: 2   
Part: 2/7  
Rating: K+

Disclaimer: Numb3rs and its lovely characters don't belong to me. They do to CBS. Unknown OC belongs to me. We all know the drill…

A/N: Hi, First, I'd like to mentioned that English is not my primary language, French is. Please be nice about my English and join me in THANKING EFF for helping me with the plot, grammar, and finding some of those words I keep forgetting to write in.

**Summary**: During some down time, Don comes home to L.A.

**Don't Stay Away From Home For Too Long**

**Chapter 2: Coming and Going**

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23 days later.

Charlie ran into the house and answered the phone in the kitchen before the call went to voicemail. "Hello!"

"_Hey, Chuck!"_ his brother greeted him. "_Did I wake you?"_

"Don! Hey. No, that's fine. I was in the garage. I assumed that Dad would be around to pick up the phone. How are you doing?"

"_I'm a bit tired, but I'm fine. You?"_

"I can't complain," Charlie replied. "Where are you?"

"_My apartment here in L.A. I got here about an hour ago so I could grab a shower before heading to the office. I just wanted to let you and Dad know that I'll be in town for a few days."_

Charlie glanced at his watch. The time was precisely 10:37:22 P.M. "It's a bit late for the office. Not that you usually keep normal hours…" he remarked. Hearing footsteps, Charlie looked up to his father as he walked into the kitchen. "It's Don," he whispered to Alan.

"_What was that, Buddy?"_

"Just telling Dad that I'm talking with you," he said. "What were you saying?"

"_Nothing important. I've got some shut eye on the plane earlier. Trying to get some sleep right now would be a waste of time."_

Don had mentioned he would be in town for a few days. Charlie was aware that his brother's agenda would most likely be very busy during that time, as he would be catching up with his team at the L.A Field Office. Charlie feared they might not have the time to get together. He quickly evaluated his options. There was no time like the present, he decided.

"Do you really have to go to work?" he asked. "It's not too late for a beer. Dad and I could meet you at Churchill's in about half an hour. The time to get there."

There was a pause on the other side of the line as Don considered his proposition. Charlie could 'see' him rubbing his forehead as he thought.

"_I guess I don't really have to go tonight. Churchill's sounds good,"_ Don finally agreed.

"Great! We'll see you there."

"_Alright." _

"Why didn't you ask him to come here?" Alan inquired as his youngest son hung up the phone.

"Chances are he would've already been here had he wanted to come by," Charlie explained.

Alan nodded. "You are starting to know your brother really well."

"I was able to observe him closely for some time. I guess I can finally make useful decisions based on the data I collected."

Alan gave Charlie a knowing smile as he recognized his son's approach to life. "Let's hurry up before some phone call steels your brother away from us. _That's_ a pattern _I_ observed."

Twenty five minutes later, Charlie and Alan walked into Churchill's, an English style pub located not too far away form Don's apartment. The eyes of the trained FBI agent fell on them the moment they walked in. Charlie even suspected that Don had spotted them while they were still on the street.

Don was sitting at the bar, a beer in front of him. He was dressed casually, wearing a dark red shirt and a pair of jeans. He was still wearing his black jacket, which was efficiently hiding his gun. He was neatly shaven and combed. He looked ready to go to work at any moment if needed. He would have no more than one beer, Charlie concluded.

"Dad," Don greeted. He nodded to Charlie. "Glad you could make it."

"Donnie, it's good to finally see you, Son," Alan said pleasantly.

"How about you two order some beer and we move over there?" Don suggested, waving a hand to the right.

Soon, Charlie and Alan were sitting across from Don in a booth along side the far wall.

Charlie could better see his brother's face, now. Don looked more than just tired. He had dark circles under his eyes. The lines on his forehead and around his month appeared more pronounced.

Alan had noticed too for he commented on it indirectly. "Long day?"

"Long week. How are things with you? Are you still working on that downtown project you told me about last week?"

"That was more like two weeks ago," Alan pointed out. He was clearly letting Don know that he was not calling as often as his father would have liked. "Yes, I'm still consulting on it. It's turning to be fairly interesting." He went on explaining a few of the details. "I'm also keeping busy with the book club. We'll have our annual assembly at the end of the month."

"That's good," Don said. He took a sip of his beer. "What about you, Chuck?"

"Don't call me, Chuck." Don grinned, relaxing his features, which pleased Charlie. "You know. Same old, same old: Classes and grading papers. It's been fairly quiet ever since I helped your team close that fraud case early this week."

Don nodded, knowingly. "You did well on that, Buddy."

Charlie gave his brother a nod of his own in response to his bother's praise.

"Quiet's good," Don went on. "I'm enjoying the slack we finally have. We're waiting for some forensic reports and I don't want us to make any move before we have all the information we need. So, I figured it would be a good time for me to come home."

"We were expecting you sooner," Alan remarked.

"Dad, what do you want from me?" Don was suddenly annoyed. "I'm doing the best I can."

"I know you are, Donnie. I'm sorry," Alan apologized.

Charlie met Don's dark eyes. He gave his brother a sympathetic smile. He suspected that Don had not come to the house earlier in order to avoid that very part of the conversation. It had been a recurring theme over the years. One that Don was clearly tired of.

"So, how's Terry?" Charlie asked, effectively changing the subject.

"She's doing great. I had dinner with both her and her husband last night. She sends her love."

"Talking about love, I don't suppose you met anyone to your liking up there?" Alan inquired.

"Nope, not in that sense," Don answered.

"Good." Alan responded. Both Don and Charlie looked at their father with incredulity. "I wouldn't want to see you move away for good."

"Even if it meant a possibility of having grand children?" Charlie asked.

"You're not the only one who observes your brother and comes up with conclusions, My Boy," Alan reminded his youngest son.

Don snorted.

Charlie and his dad ignored him.

Alan continued: "The probability of your brother ever having children is, as you say…"

"Not statistically significant," Charlie finished for him.

"Glad you guys finally reached a conclusion about that," Don told them with a knowing grin.

3333333333

31 days later.

Charlie sat down at the dinning table as Alan put down two plates in front of them. Father and son ate in silence for awhile. Charlie gave his dad another worried look. He had noticed, upon coming home from Cal Sci that afternoon that his father was bothered by something. Alan had been subdued and not much of a conversationalist.

"You miss Don, don't you?" Charlie finally asked his father after catching the older man looking towards the empty place across from his youngest son, for a third time.

He had not seen his dad do something like that since months following his mother's death. A knot formed in his throat.

"I do," Alan told him with a sad smile.

"Didn't he call you from Montreal, today?" Charlie inquired, remembering Don saying that he would do so, while they were waiting for other people to join them on a conference call.

"Yes. Your brother was finally gracious enough to give me a ring, today" Alan confirmed, trying to hide his sore feelings at his oldest son's lack of diligence in returning his calls behind a joking tone.

"He's been very busy and traveling a lot lately," Charlie pointed out. "He's doing the best he can to stay in touch."

"So he keeps telling me," Alan said "Ironically, ever since I talked to him, I find myself missing him even more."

Charlie nodded. He could relate to that feeling.

Alan sighed. "It seems that I'm damned if he calls and damned if he doesn't. I just wish your brother could come home every two weeks like he said he would."

"He'll be back before you know it," Charlie said, trying to sound cheerful.

"I hope so, Charlie. I certainly hope so. Meanwhile, I have to get use to his absence, again."

4444444444

37 days later.

Sixty eight days had gone by between the evening the Eppes men had passed together at Churchill's and Don's return to L.A. During his absence, Don had called his father six times. He had forwarded thirty-two e-mails to Charlie's account, which the content had been mainly work related. He had sent two postcards to the house; one from Quebec City and the other Milan. In addition, Charlie had participated on four conferences calls, with his brother present from either Washington or Montreal.

When Charlie had asked Megan about when she expected her team leader to come home, she had looked at him sympathetically.

"I just don't know, Charlie," she had said.

They had been standing in the young mathematician's office at Cal Sci.

"Are you sure about these findings?" she had asked, bringing their attention back to the case.

"I double checked everything. I _am_ sure!" Charlie had replied, unable to take his anger out of his voice.

Megan had looked back at him, holding her ground.

His shoulders had sagged. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take my anger on you."

She had given him a sad smile. "It's okay, Charlie. I would be frustrated too if I were you. Well, _I am_! I'm worried about him. Don't take me the wrong way. Don knows what he's doing and he can take care of himself. It's just that whatever he's doing, it's taking over his life."

"And it's affecting ours… Dad…" Charlie had shook his head, as if the gesture could have erased the distraught look he had seen grow in his fathers eyes ever since his brother had left. "Dad isn't handling this well."

Megan had put a hand on his arm, supportively.

He had continued. "I knew both of them had become very close when Mom and I were in Princeton. They were doing all kind of stuff together." He sighed. "I think it's one of the reasons why the time Don was working Fugitive Recovery was so hard on Dad. Don wasn't keeping in touch then either. He would go without calling for weeks and months on end. Dad missed him. It was driving him crazy. Don _knew _that before he left."

"You're angry because Don's putting your Dad through this again, knowingly," Megan had said understandingly.

"He's keeping in touch better than he did in the past. I'll give him that. But, it's not like we're seeing him or hearing from him every week."

"You got used to having him around."

"Ever since Don came back from Albuquerque, we've been able to count on him. Especially Dad… And Mom, at the time…" Charlie drew in a breath as he collected himself. "When Mom was sick, I wasn't there for her, particularly at the end. I was no help for any of them. Not for Mom. Not for Dad. Not for Don. But, _he_ was. Even for _me_! And, it stayed that way. Even when we didn't hear from Don for days, we knew he was never too far away."

"Don became your rock, the person you could turn to and lean on," Megan had soothed him "He stayed your constant until he had to go away."

"Does he really have to stay away for so long?" Charlie had asked, his words sounding childish to his ears.

"He does for now. Don has a job to do, Charlie," Megan had reminded him. She had met his eyes. "You know, this is as hard for your brother as it is for you and your father. This situation has been tearing him apart, too. He would rather be home."

"I know he would," he had sighed. "You don't know where he went after leaving London four days ago, do you?"

She had shaken her head. "I thought he was going back to Bulgaria, but don't quote me on this. All I know really is that he's still in Europe. He'll be back, Charlie. I know because he's still my boss and, most of all, he's my friend. I have faith in him."

Megan had turned out to be right. Don had finally come home. However, no one had been prepared to take in the reason motivating his return. Least of all, Charlie.

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**TBC**

**A/N: I can sense some more anguish and drama lurking up. Can you?**


	3. Chapter 3: Home Is With Me and Dad

Series: Numb3rs  
Season: 2   
Part: 3/7  
Rating: K+

Disclaimer: Numb3rs and its lovely characters don't belong to me. They do to CBS. Unknown OC belongs to me. We all know the drill…

A/N: This chapter has only been partially beta-ed. I hope my English grammar is not too bad. It often gets mixed up with my French. Thanks for your understanding.

Second, SPOILER WARNING: this story takes place right after the episode "DARK MATTER".

**Don't Stay Away From Home For Too Long**

**Chapter 3: Home Is With Me and Dad.**

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On the 68th day fallowing the evening at Churchill's, Don phoned his father to inform him that he was on his way home from Washington. In turn, Alan called Charlie.

"Would you want to come and greet your brother at the airport with me?"

"Sure. At what time is Don's flight coming in?" Charlie asked. 

"At 6:35 P.M. I could pick you up at Cal Sci. by 4:00. It should give us enough time to get there despite the traffic," his father suggested.

"_That's fine. I'll wait for you by the front entrance of my building." _

At 6:40 P.M, Alan and Charlie arrived at LAX. They noticed on one of the monitors that Don's plane had landed on time. They hurried up to the appropriate exist. They waited for about 15 minutes before seeing Don come their way. His left hand was holding to the handle of a suitcase, which was rolling behind him. A carry-on bag was hanging from his right shoulder.

Charlie and his father exchanged a quick worried glance. Even from a distance, Don looked warned out.

"Donnie!" Alan greeted his oldest son.

"Dad, Charlie. It's good to see you. Thanks for coming."

"I'm glad you called. Let me take that for you," Alan said as he reached for the suitcase.

"And let me have your bag before your laptop ends up on the floor," Charlie offered.

"Thanks, Chuck," Don said with a tired smile.

Charlie would have reminded his brother not to call him '_Chuck'_, had Don not sounded so relieved to have the weight of his computer bag taken off his shoulder.

"How was your flight?" Alan asked casually.

"Good. I slept most of the way. The Flight Attendant had to wake him up when we started our descent on L.A. I could have slept some more."

"I believe that," his father agreed, seizing him up from head to toe. "To tell you the truth, Donnie, you looked dead on your feet."

"I pretty much feel like it, too," Don confessed. "I think I am coming down with the flu or something."

"Nice of you to come home so you can pass it on to us," Charlie teased him.

"I'll stay clear. I'll just go to my apartment and sleep it off for a day or two."

"No-no." Alan disagreed. "Flu or not, you're coming to the house. You promised me that you would be home every two weeks. Yet, I haven't seen you in two months! Now, you know there's got to be consequences to that. One of which will be to let me fuss over you until I you look _alive,_ again."

Don shook his head.

"You know, Bro. It's only fair," Charlie chipped in. "He had only _me_ to fuss over during the time you were gone. It's your turn, now."

"Uh-uh… Maybe I should have gone back to Montreal, as I was supposed too," Don muttered.

"But you decided to come home, instead," Alan pointed out.

"Yeah, I did. I got to the airport and just felt like coming home. So, I cancelled everything and jumped on the first plane out for L.A." Don looked from his father to his brother. "I'm glad I did. Really."

"So, are we, Son"

Soon they were on their way to house. They had been on the road for less then fifteen minutes when Alan noticed that Don had fallen back to sleep in the front passenger seat. Charlie saw his father extend a hand and touch Don's pale cheek.

"I'm afraid he might be right about that flu," Alan commented. "He's warm to the touch. I was thinking we could stop for a pizza, but I'm starting to believe it would be better just go straight home. What do you think, Charlie?"

"Might as well."

They reached the house at twenty minutes past eight. Alan shook Don awake and told him to get settled in the house while Charlie and he took care of the suitcase and carry-on bag.

Charlie found his brother back in the kitchen getting himself a glass of water. He washed down two pills, put back the glass on the counter, and then rubbed his lower back and hips with his hands.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, Charlie. Just sore. With the jetlag and everything, it makes a long day."

"That's true, it way past 11:00 P.M. in Washington," Charlie noted.

They turned around to see their father walk through the bating doors.

"I don't know about you two, but I _am_ starving!" Alan said. "What would you like?"

"Nothing for me, Dad" Don replied. "I had dinner hours ago. I'm just gonna go hit the sack, if you don't mind. I'm beat."

"You go right ahead, Donnie," Alan encouraged him. "We'll catch up tomorrow, once you feel better."

"Thanks. Good night"

"Good night," Alan and Charlie both called after him.

There was not much catching up done on the following day. Don got up by six. He joined his father for breakfast. He managed to get down a glass of orange juice and piece of toast with jelly.

By the time, Charlie found his way to the kitchen, at 7:35 a.m.; Don was stiffly rising from the dinning table. He mumbled something about hacking all over and returning to bed. Charlie and his father then watched him painfully make the trek back up the stairs.

Charlie came home by 4:30 P.M. that afternoon to learn that his brother had kept on sleeping most of the day. He had eaten some lunch to vomit it back less then ten minutes later. By 6:00 P.M. Alan coaxed Don up long enough so he could try some soup and take more Tylenol for his fever and muscle aches.

"His fever has been on the rise," Alan informed Charlie, as they observed Don sleep from the doorway of his bedroom. "If it isn't down by tomorrow morning, I'll bring him to a doctor."

"Good luck with that," Charlie said.

"He's already in no shape to put up a fight of any kind with me. If this keeps up, I'll have to literally drag him to a doctor." Alan stated. "He's trying to hide it, but I can see that he has severe muscle pains and headaches. He's been having chills and some dizzy spells. He's been nauseous all day, too. He even vomited a few times."

"Rough. Let's hope the night does him some good," Charlie wished.

Alan simply nodded. Concern was written all over his face.

By the time Charlie came down the stairs, the following morning, he found his brother making his way back up.

"Done with the bathroom?" Don rasped out.

"Yeah. It's all yours."

"Good, 'cause I need a shower," Don told him. He was already out of breath after a few steps.

"Yeah, you do," his brother teased him, trying not to show how troubled his was by Don's deteriorating condition.

Charlie found his father sipping coffee at the dinning table, a paper spread in front of him.

"Morning, Dad. Did you convince Don to go see a doctor?"

"I did, but your brother has in his head that he'll stop by his office, first. He said that he turned his cell phone back on long enough to notice that he had 17 messages. He didn't dare estimate how many e-mails were currently sitting in his inbox."

"He probably has quite a few," Charlie agreed. "Still, he should see a doctor first. He's been coughing most of the night. He definitely doesn't look any better."

"You tell him so," Alan challenged his youngest son.

Charlie did just that when his brother rejoined them in the dinning room, some twenty minutes later. Despite the fact that he was neatly dressed, combed, and shaven, Don was looking worse.

"You know, Don, you really should go see a doctor first thing this morning. It's bad enough you're infecting my house with whatever you've got, you should at least spare your team."

Don massaged his forehead with his left hand.

"Yeah, maybe you're right. I can go to the office later." He coughed. "I really got to drop off these files I have."

"That's settled, then," Alan told Don. "I'll drive you to the doctor's office. We'll make a quick stop at the FBI afterward, then I'll bring you back home so you can rest some more."

"Sounds good, Dad," Don agreed. "Let me go back upstairs. I forgot to bring down my stuff."

"I can go for you," Charlie offered.

"That's okay. I better do it."

Charlie knew Don's refusal meant that he didn't want his little brother to go through some disturbing FBI material.

Once again, Charlie and his father watched Don stubbornly make the journey back up to his bedroom on his own.

Alan sighed with dismay, and then gathered the plates that were on the table. He followed his youngest son to the kitchen.

"I wasn't expecting a fight," he remarked. "But that was…"

"Too easy." Charlie finished for him. "That's not like Don."

His father nodded. "At what time is your class this morning?"

"10:30. I'll be done by noon. Why don't you call me then to give me an update on Don?"

"I will. If everything works out, maybe we could have lunch all three of us, together," Alan suggested.

Charlie was about to agree when both men heard something hit the floor over their heads. They exchanged a worried look. Quickly, Alan made his way out of the kitchen, Charlie on his heels.

"Don!" he called from the bottom of the staircase. "Donnie! Are you all right?"

When he received no answers from his oldest son, Alan took the stairs two at a time on his way up. His heart almost stopped when he saw Don sprawled on the floor of his bedroom.

"Donnie!" he shouted. He came knelling down by his son. "Don, can you hear me? It's Dad." Alan reached for his son's cheek. "Oh Donnie, you're burning up."

"Dad?" Charlie ventured, shocked by the scene in front of him.

"Charlie!" his father turned to face him. "Don't just stand there. Call 9-1-1."

6666666666

Charlie distractively answered the phone as he kept an eye on the paramedics. They were transferring his brother from the stair-chair they had used to bring down Don from the house second level to an awaiting stretcher in the living room.

"Hello?"

"_Charlie?_"

"Hey, Megan. I can't really talk right now. Can I call you back?"

"_Sorry, Charlie. It's important. Don turned his cell phone off and we've been trying to reach him. Have you heard from your brother in the last two days?"_

"He's here, Megan. Paramedics are about to get him to the hospital. I'll call you back, okay?" he asked, not trusting himself capable of explaining the situation.

"No, Charlie. Not okay. I need to speak with those paramedics right away!" 

"What?"

"_Charlie, just let me talk to one of them,_" she told him sternly.

"Sir," he called one of the EMT. "Megan… Agent Megan Reeves form the FBI wants to talk to you."

Annoyance quickly flashed in the paramedic's eyes before he took the phone. "This is Todd Burlow… It's seems Agent Eppes has a serious case of the flu. He's been in and out of consciousness due to high fever…. Oh, I see… No, I know it's not contagious. Just a sec… Dwayne, call dispatch ask for the protocols for HPS."

Alan looked up from his position at Don's head. "HPS? What's going on?" he demanded. "Charlie, do you know?"

Charlie shook his head slightly. He felt so sick; he feared throwing up in the middle of the living room. His eyes came on Dwayne. The EMT was now reciting numbers over his radio – BP: 187/100; pulse: 112; temp: 102.3. The numbers, usually so reassuring, did nothing to comfort Charlie this time.

"We need to get going ASAP," Dwayne told his partner. "We're going to UCLA Medical."

Todd Burlow relayed the information to Megan, and then handed the phone to Alan.

"Megan, what's going on?" Charlie heard his father asked. "…I understand. Alright, Charlie and I will see you there."

_How could his father be so calm?_

Charlie stayed rooted in one place as he watched his brother being whisked away into the ambulance.

"Come on, Son," Alan encouraged him gently. "Let's go."

5656565656

TBC

**A/N: Taking a deep breathes. **

**Hope you liked it. **


	4. Chapter 4: You Are Not Alone

Series: Numb3rs  
Season: 2  
Part: 4/7  
Rating: K+

Disclaimer: Numb3rs and its lovely characters don't belong to me. They do to CBS. Unknown OC belongs to me. We all know the drill…

**A/N: I would like to thank CELADON for helping me proofing this part. Thank you! I really appreciate your help. I still have some issues with my English, but I'm learning. Please be patient – Thanks!**

**Don't Stay Away From Home For Too Long**

**Chapter 4: You Are Not Alone.**

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FBI Special Agent Megan Reeves paced the entrance of UCLA Medical's Emergency Department. She and her colleague, Special Agent David Sinclair, had made it there in a record time, beating the Eppes. On their way to the hospital, she had established the first contact with the ER personnel in order to brief them on the suspected cause of her Team Leader and friend's illness – Hantavirus Pulmonary Syndrome, or HPS for short.

They had met Dr. Jim Ma, the Chief Immunologist, on arrival. The physician, an Asian man in his mid-forties, assured them that the proper protocols were being put in place.

"What's taking them so long?" Megan asked, frustrated.

David had no answer for her. He was leaning against the wall, his features tight. Finally they heard the distinctive sound of an ambulance siren closing in.

"They're here," Dr. Ma announced, as he joined them along with two female nurses in their mid-thirties.

Two paramedics rolled in a stretcher with a very still Don Eppes lying on it. Megan felt a knot form in her throat as she took in her friend's condition. His eyes were closed. An oxygen mask was covering his nose and mouth. He was too pale. She did not give any attention to the medical personnel surrounding her as she started walking alongside the stretcher, focused only on Don. She gently reached for his shoulder. She was not surprised to find heat radiating through his clothes.

They reached an examination cubicle. Megan stood out of the way as the paramedics transferred Don to awaiting bed. Following one last exchange with the doctor, the two EMTs gathered their equipment and left. Quickly, one nurse settled her patient's IV bag on a pole, while other hooked him up to a heart monitor. Blood was drawn while Dr. Ma started to poke around his patient's body, taking notes on a chart as he went. He gave a few orders to one of the nurses, who then left purposefully. They were eventually joined by a technician with a portable chest X-Ray machine.

Don's lungs were X-Rayed, while the nurse came back with another IV bag and a few syringes.

"I want an EKG and an echocardiogram before we send him upstairs to the ICU," he told the nurses. He then turned to face Megan. "Agent Reeves, we won't know for sure if it's indeed HPS before the lab confirms it, but Agent Eppes already shows the prodomes for it: fever higher than 101.O F, dry cough, myalgias, headaches, nausea and vomiting. At this point, I'm mainly concerned by his apparent tachycardia and tacchyapnea."

"Tacchyapnea?" Megan asked. "I'm familiar with tachycardia: fast heart beat, but what's tacchyapnea?"

"Fast breathing. The patient breathes 26 to 30 times per minute," the doctor explained.

"And myalgias are muscle pains, right?"

"Yes. We're starting him on a wide spectrum antibiotic therapy right away to be on the safe side," he gave her a kind smile. "He's conscious. You may have a few minutes with him."

Megan walked up to the bed. Don eyes were closed. He looked asleep. She wondered if the doctor had not been mistaken in saying that he was awake. Gently, she put a hand on Don's right arm. She blinked as she noticed his dark eyes looking up at her.

"Megan," she heard him say despite the mask.

"May I?" she asked one of the nurses, pointing to the mask.

The nurse briskly nodded, before going back to her monitoring.

Megan pulled the mask down delicately.

"Hey," Don breathed.

"Hey yourself," she said with a smile. "Don't feel so great, huh?"

"You know what's going on?" he asked between two breaths.

She recognized her boss's 'down-to-business' attitude.

"We've got some suspicions," she replied calmly.

He tilted his head to the side and coughed. "Heard HPS," he told her as he made eye contact with her, again. "Hantavirus?" He was worried. With good reason.

"That's what we're afraid of," she confirmed.

Tears were threatening to rise. She forced them away. She had to remain strong. For both of them.

"Deadly." Don's whisper caught her full in the chest.

"It might be, yes," she was forced to agree. "Listen to me, Don. Let's see what the Doctor finds out before jumping to conclusions. Okay?"

"How - how did you find out?" He answered his own question. "Others have it."

"Three others came down with it so far," Megan informed him. "One in New York and two in Montreal."

"Véronique and Pierre-André?" Don asked.

Véronique Dupuis and Pierre-André Leblanc were Don's main Canadian liaisons on the International Anti-Sex Trade Task Force.

"Véronique has been infected, but not Pierre-André. He's tests came back negative," she told him. "Don, the thing is, we don't know where you contracted the virus. We were hoping you could help us out with that."

He closed his eyes for a moment. He coughed again. The same dry cough. "Been on the road a lot. Megan, I've seen – _this_ - in New Mexico," he told her. "The odds are -"

"The odds are 50/50," she finished for him, knowing he was talking about his 40-50 chances of survival.

"Not even." Of course, he would be aware of the real odds. "Dad? Charlie?"

"They must be here by now. David's probably with them."

"Charlie – he's no good with this stuff."

"We'll take care of him. We'll take care of both Charlie and your father. Don't worry. Concentrate on getting better."

"My case files are -" He was getting tired and it was harder for him to breathe. "At the house. Charlie - he can help you… Give him something to do."

"I will. Don't worry about Charlie. He wouldn't want you to. Rest, now." She put the mask back over his face, putting an end to their conversation. She watched him close his eyes and slowly drift away. She forced herself to swallow and to keep taking deep regular breaths. Why was this happening? Don was one of the finest men she had ever worked with – that she knew. This was not fair! It was not fair for any of them. She brought her left hand to his forehead and caressed his hot skin, gently. "You have to fight this, Don," she whispered. "We'll be right here with you."

She turned to Dr. Ma, who was now standing behind her.

"Have you learned any information that could help locate the origin of the virus?" the immunologist asked.

"I've got a place to start looking," she replied.

"Assuming this is HPS, and I'm pretty sure that it is based on his symptoms and chest X-Rays," Dr. Ma began. "I would say that he's been infected sometime during the last 10 days. However, it could go as far back as five weeks ago."

"Five weeks!" Megan's heart sank even further. The sooner Don was treated, the better chance he had. Five weeks. Don could be gone in a matter of days, even hours…

Her eyes met Dr. Jim Ma's.

"We'll take good care of him," he assured her. "His father and brother have arrived. They're with your colleague. Let's go brief them on Agent Eppes's condition while the nurses prepare his transfer to the ICU."

Megan nodded. Her gazed fell back on Don's still form one last time. She said a quick prayer. Then she followed the physician to the waiting area.

8888888888

"Man," Colby sighed. "He looks awful."

"And he's about to get a lot worse," Megan stated dejectedly.

Special Agent Colby Granger had joined Megan at UCLA Medical ICU for an update on his boss's condition. They were standing side by side, looking at two doctors and a nurse fussing around Don through the glass window. Don had his head tilted towards them. Again, his eyes were closed. An oxygen mask was still covering his face.

"What are they doing to him? Do you know?" Colby asked, referring to the doctors.

"They're inserting a pulmonary catheter through one of the femoral vein in his arm," Megan explained. They opted for that route instead of a subclavian one because his breathing problems. It takes longer, but that way they don't have to tilt his head downward. Doing so could have comprised his breathing even more."

"I was reading on HPS earlier, before I came," Colby told her. "There's no antivirus for this. The best treatment is to put the patient on a ventilation system. Are they planning on doing that soon?"

"Yeah. The pulmonary catheter will give them more accurate information on when he will go into the next phase of the disease. I think they'll put him on the ventilation then. He should get into that phase within the next 24 to 72 hours. Maybe sooner."

"Hey," Colby whispered, bringing a hand to Megan's shoulder for support. "Don's going to pull trough this. This virus might be nasty, but it never met our tough-as-nails boss before. It's in for a fight! And my bet's on Don for the win."

"My bet is on him, too," they heard Alan Eppes's confident tone coming from behind them. "I'll admit that it feels good not to be the only one, though."

"How are you holding up, Mr. Eppes?" Megan asked.

"It's 'Alan', Megan. Please. For all of you," the elder Eppes reminded them, not for the first time. They nodded. "I'm holding up as best as can be expected. Thank you for being here."

"Where's David?" Colby asked. "I thought he was here already. Is he somewhere with Charlie?"

"Yes," Alan answered. "They went back to the house to retrieve Don's case files. It's good thing, too. Charlie doesn't have to see this again," he said referring to the procedure Don was presently undergoing. "He saw Margaret go through a similar procedure at the beginning of her treatment. That was quite enough for him. I wish they were done by now myself."

"They're almost done," Megan assured him. She looked up at Colby. "We hope to be able to pinpoint where Don and the others were infected using his case files. According to Dr. Ma, they could have been exposed any time from a week to five weeks ago, but more likely sometime during the last 10 days. Don's already showing the latent symptoms of the first phase of the disease."

"Well." Colby let out a breath he did not know he had been holding. "Considering how rare HPS is, having four cases of it should make it easier to find the source of the outbreak."

"I hope so," Megan said. "Although Don and Véronique have been pretty much attached at the hip for the last few weeks, we don't know yet all the connections between them, the man in New York, and the dead woman they found in Montreal."

"One person died already?" Alan asked, somewhat alarmed.

"I'm afraid so," Megan confirmed. "Her body was found in a vacant field near the Saint Lawrence River, four days ago. The virus was not the cause of death, however. She had been shot before her body was dumped by the River. She was infected before Don and Véronique came in contact with her body – and apparently, so were they."

"How's Véronique?" Alan inquired, solemnly.

"Critical. She developed the symptoms more rapidly than Don did. She's already in the second phase of the disease. Her partner, Pierre-André, is the one who quickly linked her symptoms with the pathologist findings for their dead victim. That's what motivated them to run more specific tests on Véronique. He alerted us once he failed to reach Don."

Alan shook his head. "He would have been tested sooner if he'd gone to Montreal as he was suppose to. Instead, Don came home and turned his cell phone off for more then a day."

"At least he came home," Megan said. "To be with you and Charlie."

Don's father nodded, recalling his Son's visceral need to be with his family as he was starting a fight for his life.

"Have you ever met, Véronique?" Colby asked him.

"I have, twice," he replied. "She first came to L.A. a few weeks before Margaret passed on. She then came back for her funeral. It meant a lot to Don."

Colby nodded. "She's very kind like that," He was not surprised to learn that Véronique had stood by her friend during that difficult time.

"She's also very funny," Megan added. "She seems to enjoy giving Don a run for his money."

Colby chuckled, remembering the energetic and pleasant Royal Canadian Mounted Police officer, correcting Don on his broken French. In turn, he was always very quick at pointing out that she could not pronounce her _"th"_. It was hilarious every time.

"They're very good friends," Megan said. "You could even think that she's the sister Don never had."

"Well, then," Alan sighed, sadly. "Don't let me lose two children at once."

787878787878

TBC… 

**AN: Is there enough drama, anguish, and H/C in there for you? Myself, I almost wish I could go on a ventilator, too. Keep breathing, Isa, and keep writing.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**May 2006.**


	5. Chapter 5: Standing By Your Side

Series: Numb3rs  
Season: 2  
Part: 5/7  
Rating: K+

**Disclaimer: Numb3rs and its lovely characters don't belong to me. They do to CBS. Unknown OC belongs to me. We all know the drill…**

**A/N: I should mention that the Web site of the CDC has been extremely help as I completed my research on HPS.**

**I would like to thank CELADON for helping me proofing this part. Thank you! I really appreciate your help.**

**Thank you everyone for all your support!**

**Don't Stay Away From Home For Too Long**

**Chapter 5: Standing By Your Side. **

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It was past 11:00 a.m. when Charlie and David rejoined Alan, Megan, and Colby at the hospital. The two agents were still standing by the glass window separating Don's cubicle from the nursing station, while Alan was now hovering over his oldest son's still body.

"They put him on the ventilator already," Charlie voiced, totally unprepared.

He had been aware of the possibility of finding his brother no longer able to breathe on his own by the time he and David returned from the house. However, knowing it was inevitable did not make confronting the harsh reality any easier.

"They installed the ventilator right after they were done with the catheter," Colby informed him and David. "Don's lungs are starting to be seriously compromised."

"Do they know for sure that it's HPS now?" David asked.

"It is. The tests came back positive," Colby confirmed.

"Has he entered into the second phase of the disease yet?" David inquired again, worried.

"No, not yet. Although fluids are already filling his lungs, his pulse and blood pressure are still high. The second phase is characterized by a sudden downward shift in vital signs. The pulmonary catheter will help them monitor that," Colby explained.

"Charlie," Megan began softly, as she put a hand on his harm. "You better go in there. Don-"

"I- I don't think- I don't think I can," he stuttered nervously.

"Yes, you _can,_" she encouraged him. "You _have to._"

Charlie stared at his brother through the glass window. He desperately wished he could be somewhere else. Anywhere other than this intensive care unit, where Don was being entangled into a web of tubing designed to keep him breathing – keep him alive.

"You would think that such a vital structure such as the respiratory system would have a fail-proof mechanism," he commented distractedly. "It must be a design flaw."

"Charlie, don't do this," David whispered, behind him.

"I…" he was at a loss for words as a lump formed in his throat.

"Don's been waiting for you," Megan told him. "He's fighting to stay awake so he can see you. You don't have much time. They need to increase his sedation to make him more comfortable."

"I know- I know what he wants to tell me," Charlie stammered. "He wants to let me know that everything's going to be all right. But it's not!"

"You don't know that," Megan objected. "You have to _let him_ tell you that everything's going to be all right, Charlie; for his sake and for yours. You have to go in there now. Don's not going to have another chance for a very long time."

"He might never have another chance," David pointed out the grim possibility with the compassion only a good friend could master.

"You can do this, man," Colby added supportively.

Charlie heaved a deep sigh. They were right. _He_ had to do this; if not for Don, for himself. There had been so many things he not shared with his mother before she had passed away – so many lost opportunities to support her and tell her that he loved her – all because he had decided to hide and deny her upcoming death. He _was not_ going to do the same with Don. No, Charlie was not going to walk away from him, too. Don deserved to have him by side.

Furthermore, Charlie knew that if he could find the strength to do this now, he had Don to thank for it. His assertive and fearless older brother had pierced his bubble, had him face the sometimes harsh reality of the world, and had also inspired a new kind of self-confidence in him. Charlie had a lot to be thankful to Don for.

Still, he was scared to the core and it was with hesitation that he crossed the threshold of the cubicle. He froze as he took in, up close, the numerous machines his brother was hooked up to. His eyes rested on the ventilator and Charlie fought down a gagging reflex. Tears welled at the rims of his dark eyes.

This whole set up was totally wrong.

Don looked so sick, so pale, and so tired. Charlie had never seen his strong and confident older brother this vulnerable before. Suddenly, despite his determination to be there for Don, Charlie doubted his capacity to bear this pain. He was about to turn on his heel and walk back out of the room when his dad's loving and gentle voice stopped him.

"Charlie's here, Donnie," he heard his father tell his oldest son. Alan looked back at Charlie and coaxed him to approach them with a reassuring smile.

Charlie slowly came to stand beside his father. Alan put a hand on his shoulder. In turn, Charlie rested a tentative hand on Don's chest – sensing it rises and falls. His brother covered it with one of his own. They were not the hugging-type family but, at that very moment, they all needed some form of close contact.

"Hey, Don," Charlie greeted, just above a whisper. _What could he say?_

His brother responded with a small hand squeeze.

"Donnie has message he wants me to give you, Charlie," Alan informed him.

Charlie met his brother eyes. They were clouded and unfocussed, yet they were looking up at him with a distinctive presence.

"He doesn't want you to lock yourself in the garage again like you did in the past," Alan continued sympathetically. "He wants you to go on with your life, no matter what happens. He'll be around again soon enough to make sure of it himself. Meanwhile, he wants you to promise him that you will take care of yourself."

It was just like Don to be worried about him, despite everything he was going through. It was his prerogative as older brother, Don had once told him.

"I- I promise, Don," Charlie vowed "I won't lock myself in the garage. No- no P versus NP, either. I'm going to take care of myself and I will be there for Dad. I'm going to be your constant. You don't have to worry about us." He swallowed. "You have to promise me one thing, though. In return, you have to promise us that you will fight this with everything you have. Can you promise me that, Don?"

Again, his brother gave his hand a squeeze – sealing the pact.

"That's good. Try to go to sleep," Charlie said. "Everything's going to be all right, just rest. We're not going anywhere."

They carefully watched Don close his eyes – his facial features relaxing a bit.

Alan pulled his youngest son closer to him and gave him an approving smile. "I'm proud of you, Charlie," he whispered softly. "And I know, so is Don. Your brother is proud of the man you have become and he loves you very much. He told me so."

Charlie met his father's dark eyes. They were wet, betraying his anguish.

"I love him, too," Charlie murmured, taking his brother's hand into his own. "I love you, Don. Remember that home is with me and Dad. Don't stay away from us for too long."

This time, Alan pulled his youngest son into a hug. Their embrace lasted just a few seconds, but it was enough to convey some much needed mutual comfort.

"Has he finally fallen asleep?" a man inquired, gently breaking the silence that had fallen between father and son.

Both Charlie and Alan looked up at Dr. Ma, who was standing by the doorway.

"He just did," confirmed Alan.

The immunologist took that cue to come further into the cubicle. He glanced over the various monitors and noted a few numbers on a chart. He then retrieved a syringe from his lab coat and inserted the tip into one of Don's IV lines.

"I'm increasing his sedation," he explained. "Don had quite a rough morning and the next few days are going to be even more difficult. He can use all the rest he can get."

"What- what will happen next?" Charlie asked, having trouble finding his voice.

"At this point, we expect Don to enter in the next phase of the disease sometime during the next 12 hours. We'll continue to monitor his oxygen saturation levels, blood pressure, fluids, and electrolytes very closely so that everything stays as balanced as possible. Our best treatment remains the high-frequency oscillator ventilatory support which we put Don on. We have to let the virus run its course and stay ahead, or at the very least, keep up with it as best we can."

"Anything we can do?" Alan asked.

"Get some rest as well," Dr. Ma replied. "As I said, the next few days will be difficult, on all of you."

1010101010

She silently walked in the room like a mouse making its way through a kitchen; careful not to wake the cat, as it sleep soundly by the window. She reached the bed in a couple of steps, remaining uncertain of what to do once there.

She felt overwhelmed by the overall set up in front of her; by all the equipment present – humming, beeping, and flashing. She had seen her share of rooms like this one in the past, but it was never the same when its occupant was someone you worked with, someone you had once loved, someone whom you still dearly cared about.

Terry Lake took Don's hand, mindful of the IV attached to it. Her old friend did not stir – submerged in the abyss of unconsciousness. She searched his face behind the ventilator. He was almost unrecognizable.

A tear rolled down her cheek; then another.

She gently dried them, according the pace of her movement with the quasi stillness of the room. Everything was slow; slow and rhythmic. The sound of the ventilator and the constant beeps of the heart monitor were generating a surreal atmosphere. One that was comforting and distressing at the same time. She was amazed by the number of machine necessary to keep _one_ person alive.

"Now, there's a sight for sore eyes," she heard.

Terry lifted her head and looked to her left. Her gaze met Alan's, whom had been dozing off in a chair by his son's bed.

"I'm sorry, Alan. I didn't want to wake you," she whispered.

"That's alright," he said with a small smile. "Please, come and give this old man a hug. He desperately needs one."

Terry gently put down Don's hand by his side, as if she had been handling porcelain. She then made her way around the bed before letting Alan embrace her into a bear hug. It occurred to Terry that she had come to L.A. to provide support, not to receive some. However, at that very moment, she did not care. She needed Alan's comfort just as much as he needed hers.

Slowly, they disentangled themselves. She made a half turn, without breaking their close contact. They both faced Don's sleeping figure.

"Don's stable for now. He's holding his own," Alan told her. "He crashed into the second phase of the disease less than two hours ago, going hypotensive. It happened so fast… I never was so scared in my entire life, before."

"I'm so sorry, Alan," she breathed as she tried to suppress a sob.

"Terry, you have nothing to be sorry for. This is not your fault."

"This must be horrible for you and Charlie," she empathized. "You haven't seen Don for over two months; and when he finally comes home, you all have to face your worst nightmare."

"I'm just glad he did come home," Alan confessed. "The possibility that this might have happened somewhere else – another city, another state, even another country – without me or Charlie by his side, is just unthinkable."

"Don wouldn't't have handled that well, either," Terry said, knowingly. "He was missing you and Charlie horribly. Don gave up a great deal when he came back from Albuquerque, but he found his home. He came to relish the time he passes with you. Don's home is where you and Charlie are."

"That's what his brother keeps reminding him," Alan stated, thinking fondly of his younger son.

"Don hasn't forgotten, on the contrary," Terry assured him. "He wanted to be faithful to that promise he made to come home every two or three weeks. However, there was always another lead to follow, another operation to set up, and another person to rescue… His sense of responsibility was always taking over his personal needs and wants. It was the same for Véronique. Both of them have many people counting on them. That said, he could have come back sooner. I should have insisted that he did more. That was my responsibility as his friend."

"I'm sure you all did the best you could," Alan soothed her. "I know my son takes his responsibilities very seriously, especially when other people depend on him. It's one of those characteristics that make me so proud of him."

She looked up at him and smiled with understanding. "It's also makes him a great boss and friend."

Slowly, she came closer to the bed. She bent forward and put a tender kiss on Don's forehead.

"Don, it's Terry," she whispered in his ear. "I'm here with your father. We're both standing by your side and we're not letting you go. You can depend on us. So, hang on, Don. We love you."

1111111111

TBC

**A/N: I think this was the most difficult part to write so far. It seems that I was at lost for words. Hope that it made sense. **

**Thank you for reading and for all your support. **

**June 2006**


	6. Chapter 6: Hold On To Your Part

Series: Numb3rs  
Season: 2  
Part: 6/7  
Rating: K+

Disclaimer: Numb3rs and its lovely characters don't belong to me. They do to CBS. Unknown OC belongs to me. We all know the drill…

A/N: I would like to thank CELADON for helping me proof this story. Sometimes I wonder how I manage to make so many mistakes even after re-reading the text a few times. THANK YOU for all your help Celadon! Thank you all of you for reading and reviewing.

**Don't Stay Away From Home For Too Long**

**Chapter 6: Hold on to your part of the deal**

1212121212

_Waiting._

There was nothing worse in Charlie's opinion. Yet, it seemed that waiting was all he could do; wait for the proper authorities to investigate his findings, wait on lab results, wait for his brother to get better – or worse, wait to know more. Charlie hated waiting for information to come to him. The researcher that he was always preferred to pro-actively collect the data he needed to make adequate conclusions about the hypotheses he was formulating. However, at this point in time, the data collection was out of his hands and he could do nothing more than wait.

The first forty-eight hours following Don's hospitalization had been hectic and somewhat of a blur by now. Charlie had divided his time between the hospital, the FBI office, and his house – where he had forced himself to get a few hours of sleep. After all, it was part of the deal he had made with his brother. If he expected Don to fight the virus that had invaded his body, he had to hold up his part of the deal too and take care of himself.

Charlie had also made a point of being there for his dad; providing a shoulder to lean on, insisting that he sleep in his own bed, and rounding up the support system so his father would not be alone while his youngest son was working.

Charlie was grateful to all the people who had answered his call for help and continued to be there as the days went by. Donna – the caterer whom his father dated from time to time – had provided some comfort food. Stan and Art – Alan's best friends – and their respective wives had passed some time with him both at home and at the hospital. Larry, Amita, Terry, Megan, David and Colby had also been there faithfully. Even his Aunt Irene had called everyday.

With the help of Don's team in L.A, Terry Lake, Corporal Pierre-André Leblanc from the RCPM, Dr. Andrea Smith from the CDC, and Dr. Marc Robinson form Health Canada, Charlie had first gone over the _relevant_ details of Don and Véronique Dupuis's case files – mapping possible contaminated sites. The victims' symptoms and the strain of the virus – the one carried by the deer mouse in North America – had led the team to conclude that Don and Véronique had been infected sometimes after their return from Europe, where they had worked for almost three week. Hence, they had focussed on all the cases notes going as far back as 26 days.

Don's friends and colleagues had been very careful not to expose Charlie to any disturbing pictures and other sensitive information; all of them being aware of Don's wish to protect his little brother from upsetting material. Despite the fact that Charlie was getting used to seeing some of that gruesome stuff his brother's team was dealing with on a regular basis, he had been glad to be sheltered from it this time. He knew there was only so much heartache he could handle at one time. Besides, his job had been to determine where the victims might have been contaminated by mice's dropping, urine, and saliva. Therefore, there had been no need for him to read all the case notes and to see the troubling photographs.

Charlie had actually been rather proud of himself for having no desire to know each and every sordid detail. His need to gather all the data in order to understand every potential dynamic of a problem had too often gotten him in trouble in past. This time, only focusing on the big picture had proven to be a very good way to take care of himself throughout this ordeal. It was another way to be faithful to the promise he had made to his brother.

Through the study of the case notes, Charlie had been able to identify and rank-order six potential locations where Don and Véronique, along with the other victims, had been most likely to be infected – a number that was actually quite alarming. However, what was even more troubling was the increasing number of victims. They were now counting nine of them, among which five had died already. The dead count listed: the original victim in New York, one of his co-workers – a man from New Jersey, the dead woman found in Montreal, and two other young women – whose bodies had also been unceremoniously discarded in field in Toronto. Among the remaining four figured: Don, Véronique, and two crime scene technicians from Montreal – a man and a woman – who had assisted Don and Véronique on various occasions. It appeared that all the victims had been related to the sex-trade, from one side of the law or the other, and that more victims were likely to be found.

On the fifth day following the onset of Don's illness, Charlie decided to go back to Cal Sci and give one of his lectures. Going back to his regular work had been a welcome distraction and had proved to be a good source of stress relief. Upon his return to his office, he had found a message from Terry on his voicemail. He had called her back immediately.

"Hey, Charlie," Terry greeted him from her office in Washington – to which she had returned the day before. "Thanks for returning my call. We finally have some good news. Pierre-André and his team have found the contamination source."

"That's fantastic!" he replied happily. "Was it the container?"

"Yes it was," she confirmed. "The container Don and Véronique had flagged at the pier in Montreal was indeed contaminated with the virus. The lab confirmed it earlier this morning. The container had been used to illegally transport the women across the border. It had left the train station in New York, made a stop in Toronto, and then continued to Montreal. Based on the information provided by one of the latest victims before she was put on the ventilator, we were able to make five arrests last night: two in New York and three in Montreal; and that's just the beginning. We were also able to rescue eight women who had been abducted in Eastern Europe."

"Those are great news, Terry. Congratulations!"

"Well, congratulate yourself as well, Charlie. You did a wonderful job, especially under the circumstances." She paused and took deep breath before asking. "How's Don?"

"I wish the news about Don was just as great, but- he's not doing so well, Terry."

1313131313

"The word about you being here got around. You're receiving get-well wishes from all over the world: Canada, England, France, Italy, Bulgaria, Australia, Taiwan, and here in the US, of course," Charlie eagerly told his brother.

Don was looking up at him with tired half-opened eyes. Yet, he was remarkably alert in that instant.

"I know now that you've been traveling a lot ever since you joined the Internal Anti-Sex-Trade Task Force, especially in the last few months, but I never thought it was _that_ much. You made a lot of friends during that time. Of that I'm not surprised, though. You've always been a popular guy. That was making me _so jealous_ back in high school, you know. I still am from time to time. I wish I could be as easy going as you are."

Don made a vague gesture to the right which Charlie immediately recognized. He took a pad of paper and a pen and supported it while Don awkwardly wrote: ST WSH I GNIUS 2.

"Sometimes you wish you were a genius, too? No _you don't_," his brother retorted.

To that, Don wrote back: 2 KP UP W/ U.

"You're keeping up with me just fine," Charlie assured him as he took the pad and the pen away. As pleasant as it was to have his brother actually communicate with him despite his illness, the drugs that were pushed into his systems, the ventilator, and the other equipment tagged to his body, they had to keep it short. The small effort was taking a lot of energy out of Don.

Charlie hovered over his brother again, bringing a hand to the top of Don's head. He had previously determined that it was the safest place where he could touch him – one of the only places where no tubing or wires of any sort could be found. "Actually, you are keeping up with everything just fine. I'm so proud of you," Charlie told him lovingly.

Don blinked once. He was doubtful, Charlie concluded.

"It's all the truth and nothing but, my dear brother," he continued on a pleasant tone. "I know it doesn't feel that way, but you're doing _great_. I can understand if you're having doubts, tough. I've been having my share too." Charlie drew in a breath. "Just like on the other day- maybe I shouldn't tell you this? You can take it, right?"

His brother simply stared back.

"Well, your doctor told us that they would stop the ventilator for less than a minute to rebalance your oxygenation level – which had dropped to 88. I _totally_ freaked out. I almost passed out. After that I was so angry. I wished I could have been mad at you for not holding on to your part of our agreement, but I couldn't- I couldn't because you _have_. You've been fighting this with a vengeance." Charlie swallowed. "You have to keep going, okay? You keep on fighting back and I'll keep taking good care of myself and Dad – staying out of the garage and all."

Don blinked twice. Charlie knew his brother was approving.

"Talking about Dad... He would have my head if he knew that I was telling you all this stuff and keeping you from your sleep. I know you're tired and fighting to stay awake for me, now. So close your eyes and go back to sleep. I'll be right here if you need me."

Without hesitation, Don closed his eyes again. Charlie remained standing, stroking his brother's hair for a few more minutes. Only when he was sure his brother was in deep a sleep did he allow his sadness and fatigue to cloud his features.

Tears rolled down his cheeks.

It was true that Don was fighting back. Dr. Ma was often commenting on it and on how much he was impressed by his patient's determination. However, by now, Don was so weak and exhausted that additional parts of his body were being seriously strained. In fact, his kidneys were threatening to fail at any time. It was actually a miracle that Don could wake up from time to time and be able to follow a conversation for a few minutes.

"Just keep on fighting, Don," Charlie whispered. "It's all I am asking."

1414141414

With new information to add to his team's most recent investigation, Colby purposefully made his way back to his desk. They had been called into a kidnapping case the night before. The eight-year-old boy of an engineering consulting firm had been taken away, right in front of his mother as she was pulling into the family home's driveway in Pasadena. Despite their fatigue and worry for Don, David, Megan, and Colby dived into the investigation head on. All of them knew that the quicker the child was found, the better were his chances.

As he neared the area where his team worked, Colby slowed his pace. He almost came to a full stop as he spotted Megan and David subdued demeanours. David was quietly talking on the phone, while Megan was standing behind him with her arms protectively wrapped around her chest. She was looking totally lost.

"Megan?" Colby asked softly. "Is everything all right?"

She met his gaze. Tears were welling at the rim of her eyes.

Colby felt his heart skip a bit as unwelcome conclusions half formed in his mind. _No, this could not mean…? This could not be it…? _Wordlessly; he watched David put the phone back in its cradle. The African-American agent turned around and looked up at them with grief written all over his face.

"Is Don- Don's okay, right?" Colby ventured, not sure how to voice his question.

"For now," David answered him solemnly.

Colby stared back at them. He knew his colleagues would be sad if the young boy they were looking for was to die before they could find him. However, they would not be so shaken. Their professional detachment and experience would help them deal with the sadness associated with such an eventuality.

"What's going on?" he asked. "Is Don getting worse? Is Véronique?"

Megan brought a hand to her face in an effort to block the stream of tears that was now coming down her cheeks. David shook his head with dismay. He took a deep breath.

"Véronique died less than an hour ago," he informed him. "Kidney failure."

"Oh God," was all Colby could say as he leaned on the desk behind him.

Silence fell between the three of them for a few minutes as they allowed themselves to grieve and remember.

"I hope it doesn't mean that Don-" David's words melted in mid sentence.

"He's been one step behind her all along," Megan pointed out with a cracking voice.

"Oh, no. I'm not going to believe _that_," Colby told them. "My bet's still on Don to pull through this. We _have_ to believe that he will. Positive thinking, remember? That's what we agreed upon. I don't want to see either of you giving up on him because Don _is_ _not_ giving up. He's still fighting."

"Colby's right," David said, pulling himself together.

"I know," Megan told them. "I'm just- I'm scared. I don't want to loose him, too."

1515151515

TBC

**_A/N: How was that? I hope you didn't see too many mistakes. Thanks for reading!_**

_**June 2006.**_


	7. Chapter 7: Come back to me

Series: Numb3rs  
Season: 2  
Part: 7/7  
Rating: K+

**Disclaimer: Numb3rs and its lovely characters don't belong to me. They do to CBS. Unknown OC belongs to me. We all know the drill…**

**A/N I: I would like to thank CELADON and EFF for being my Beta-readers as I wrote this story. I really appreciated it! Thank you all for reading and reviewing. You're support was very helpful.**

**Don't Stay Away From Home For Too Long**

**Chapter 7: Come back to me. **

161616161616

Despite the fact that he was giving his lecture notes his full attention, Charlie remained attuned to the activity of the room – standing by in case Don woke up. His older brother had had a rough night and had been drifting between various stages of consciousness all day. He had woken up briefly, in mid morning. However, his discomfort and confusion had been so obvious and painful to watch that Alan had encouraged his firstborn son to go back to sleep immediately. Don had not woken up since. Nonetheless, Charlie, Alan, and their other regular visitors had stood vigil by his side. They had kept on talking to him and assuring him that he was not alone, that he could take all the time he needed to get better, that they would be waiting for him, and, most of all, that they cared for him and loved him.

His senses on alert, Charlie noticed the change in the beeping pattern emitted by the heart monitor right away. He closed his eyes and listened more carefully. His heart rate started to race as he realized that Don's was actually _slowing _down. It was also getting more and more irregular. _No-no, this can't be happening_, Charlie denied. _Don's pulse is already too slow!_ Charlie hastily scrambled to his feet and swiftly put down his laptop on the chair he had just vacated. He had hardly reached his brother's bedside when a first alarm went off.

"Don? Don, can hear me? Can you open your eyes for me, bro?" he fired away, trying to keep his growing panic out of his voice. His questions failed to raise his brother. Don appeared to be in deeper stage of sleep. His features were relaxed. His skin seemed more greyish – as if that could be even possible. He was too still.

_Oh G-D, Don looks… _He refused to finish that thought.

"Charlie, we need you to step outside," a now familiar voice instructed him sternly.

Charlie looked up at Evelyn, the ICU's Chief Nurse, who was now standing beside him. He wanted to ask what was going on, but no words were coming out. Evelyn appeared sympathetic to his distress, yet she did not bother to provide him an explanation. She unceremoniously pushed him towards the exit. Momentarily, Dr Ma, Dr. Diaz, and another nurse joined the Chief Nurse who was already making some adjustments to one of the machines surrounding her patient.

"He's crashing, again," Evelyn told the doctors. "BP is falling rapidly. Pulse is at 32 and dropping. Oxygen level 97"

Doctor Diaz, the cardiologist on staff, gave a few orders that were readily acknowledged by other members of the medical team.

Charlie cleared the threshold of the cubicle. He then turned around to watch them work over his brother with a morbid fascination.

"Charlie," Sara, one of the daytime nurses, called softly. "Come on. Don't stay there."

He hesitated a moment. _But Don…_

Sara put a hand behind his back and coaxed him forward. He finally surrendered and started to walk away, only to freeze in mid stride as his brain registered an even more drastic change. The beeping sound had stopped.

_No more heart beats… _

The heart monitor was now transmitting a continuous sound – a _flat line._

_Don, you promised to fight._

"We're losing him!" Charlie heard Dr. Diaz shout. "Ready the paddles at 200."

_Don't leave me… Don't leave Dad._

Sara continued to gently guide Charlie away from the drama occurring in the cubicle behind them. He followed her lead blindly over a few feet. She withdrew her hand from his back just before he was pulled into a tight embrace. Instinctively, Charlie buried his head into Alan's neck.

_Please, Don, remember… _

Father and son held on to each other for dear life, sharing their fear, their heartache, and their hope in silence.

_We love you, Don. We still need you. _

1717171717

David Sinclair walked into the ICU department with a newspaper in his hand. Over the last week, he had gotten into the habit of saving the sport section so he could read it to Don during his lunch hours. It was part of a routine his team had put in place in order to give Alan and Charlie some much needed breaks during the day. David rounded the nursing station. He noticed from the corner of his eye that the beautiful Sara was working again today. Maybe we'll have the time to chat a bit before I have to go back to the office, he thought. He knew Don would not mind if he cut his visit a bit short in order to _chat_ with Sara. After all, his friend had dropped him a few lines encouraging him to do just that.

SARA CUTE, Don had written on a pad a few days earlier, as he had caught David watching Sara return to the nursing station.

"You think so too, huh? I guess you don't have anything better to do than to check out the nurses, do you? I'd be checking them too if I were you," David had joked. Don had replied with a weak nudge at David's newspaper with his pen. "Okay, I _am_ checking out the nurses."

GO TALK, the senior agent had written back on the pad.

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" David had teased him.

NO TIME LK PRSNT, Don had pointed out.

"There's plenty of time," David told him. It was true. There was plenty of time for him to talk with Sara. His time with Don, however, could possibly be counted. "Okay, how about I finish that article first and then go try my luck with her?" He did not wait for an answer. "Where was I? Oh yeah…"

The _conversation_ he had had with the older man suddenly dissolved from David's memory as he neared the entrance of Don's cubicle. David came to an abrupt halt. His mouth went dry. He clenched to the newspaper as he took in the emptiness of the room.

Don was _gone_. _It couldn't be…_

David's shock lasted just a few seconds before he resorted to his FBI training. He turned on his heel, ready to demand where his boss was. His words melted in mid sentence as he faced Sara's beautiful smile.

"He's alright, David," she immediately reassured him, looking up at the taller FBI agent with a sympathetic look. "Don's doing fine. He was sent down for an MRI earlier."

"He was sent down with the ventilator and all?" David asked with incredulity.

"No, no more ventilator. Dr. Ma took it out this morning. Don's breathing on his own now. Mind you, he's assisted by a nasal canula. His BP and pulse are still low, but it's nothing major. If Don's continues to follow the normal course of disease, he should improve very rapidly now that he has pulled through the critical phase."

"This is _great_, Sara!"

"Yes, it is," she agreed. "Especially that we almost lost him not even three days ago."

David allowed himself a deep sigh of relief. "G-D, I was scared there for a minute…"

"Sorry about that," Sara apologized. "Can I make it up to you by inviting you for a coffee? I'm actually going on break."

"That would certainly make up for it," David said with a smile he knew reached his eyes. "Will Don be brought back here after his MRI or is he out of the ICU already?"

"They'll bring him back here," she confirmed. "He won't be move to a regular room until his vitals are judged satisfactory. He should be back in 15-20 minutes, or so. You should be able to see him before you have to go back to your office."

"Alright, let's go, then!"

1818181818

Alan quietly dragged a chair by his oldest son's bed. He sat, letting his crossword puzzle booklet rest on his lap. For a moment, he took the time just sit there, watch, and listen. It was part of his silent vigil routine. A routine that was now well engrained in him after what seemed to be years of practice. It was a routine that Alan could have done without in his humble opinion. Unfortunately, life had had other plans. It had forced Alan Eppes not only to sit and watch his beloved Margaret slowly waste away during the long months that cancer had raged through her body, but also to stand by his oldest son as a virus had done much of the same in a matter of days.

Alan took a deep breath, retained the air in his lungs for a few seconds, and then slowly released it. He repeated these actions three times and allowed himself to enjoy the calming sensations that came with the sample relaxation technique. Although, Alan now felt less stressed than he had during the last few weeks, he was still tensed – secretly worried that things would backfire and take a turn for the worse. Again. Alan doubted he would be able to survive if it did. At times, he wondered how he managed to endure the last weeks at all. Each time Don's heart failed or even came close to it, Alan's almost did too. That said, he had survived, because Don had pulled through this ordeal. His oldest son, the former baseball player, the FBI Agent, the dependable man you could always count on when you needed help, had never given up. He had fought with a deadly virus with everything he had. He had won a fight many others had lost, including a dear friend of his.

Alan opened his eyes and looked up at Don as if he needed to make sure that his first born was still there. His gazed first rested on his son's chest. It was steadily rising and falling. Contented, Alan's moved his red-rimmed eyes to Don's face – a face that was still pale but no longer partially hidden behind a ventilator, or any other equipment for that matter. Alan found himself longing to reach for that face and caress it tenderly. He refrained from it, however, telling himself that doing so would probably wake up his son. Don needed all the sleep he could get in order to get better _faster_.

Alan grinned to himself. _Yeah, everything is fast with Donnie._ Don had been fast on the baseball field. He had moved up quickly in his career. He had relationships that were short lived. He had come close to death in the blink of an eye many times. He would also have a speedy recovery – at least they all hoped he did. With that, Alan knew that Don would be back at work in no time, too. _He will_, Alan thought. _Whether I like it or not_.

A shadow disturbed the soft lighting coming from the hallway. Alan looked up at Charlie. He noticed, not for the first time, that his youngest had lost some weight. They all had, including Don's friends and co-workers who had passed many lunch breaks at the hospital so that Alan and Charlie could get some food and rest.

As for Don, he was now as bony as Alan had ever seen him. His oldest son had never been an overweight man, but he had never gone through the slinky phase either like his brother had. He always had well defined muscles that gave him a strong stature. Well, until now. Today, not only was Don's little fat gone, so was his musculature. That said, Alan knew he would be there to fat his son up and that he could count on Charlie to coach his brother back in shape.

Alan gave his younger son a smile that reached his tired dark eyes.

Charlie shook his head. "If Don catches you sitting by his bedside even now that he's at home, he'll raise hell," Charlie whispered to him.

"I know," Alan told him. "Let him try. I came prepared."

"I'm sure you did," Charlie said, returning his dad's smile.

"Besides, do you really think that your brother could win an argument with me?"

"Huh… no," Charlie had to agree.

"Sure, I could," came a weak and sleepy voice from the bed.

"You're supposed to be sleeping," Alan reminded Don.

"Huh-huh… and I'm supposed to do that with the racket the two of you are making?"

"_Racket?"_ Alan questioned his oldest son's choice of word.

"Aren't you used to sleeping with all kinds of sounds around you by now?" Charlie asked, remembering how noisy Don's corner of the ICU had been while he was hooked to all those machines that had sustained his life for almost two weeks.

"I got unused to it," Don mumbled. "How am I supposed to sleep if you guys are talking about _me_? At least, have the decency to do that elsewhere."

"Look at it this way, it gives you a chance to defend yourself," Charlie argued.

"Yeah, right," Don replied sarcastically.

"Well, it just goes to show you that you shouldn't stay away from home for too long," Alan told him.

"Meaning what?" Don asked

"The longer you stay away from home, the more it legitimates our right to fuss over you once you're back."

"Is that so?"

"Yes," Alan replied. "It's father and brother's privilege."

"Brother's too, huh?"

"Yes," his father confirmed.

"Does it go both ways?" Don asked him.

"Of course, it does," Alan said.

"Fair enough, then. I can't argue with that."

"No, you can't," his father said, throwing his youngest son a triumphant smile. He looked back at his oldest. "Now, go back to sleep. I would like to finish my crossword puzzle."

Don gave his dad a quizzical look. He heard Charlie chuckle. He turned to face his little brother who blinked an eye at him. Don grinned. "It's good to be home," he finally said.

"For all of us," Charlie added.

"Yes, it is," their father agreed. "Yes, it is."

Alan sighed with contentment. Things would be all right. He just knew they would.

1919191919

**THE END**

**A/N: That's it! I hope you liked it! **

**Regards, Isa.**

**July 2006.**


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